


And You Want to Travel with Him, and You Want to Travel Blind

by DeanRH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Life on the Road, M/M, Road Trips, Supportive Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRH/pseuds/DeanRH
Summary: Castiel suffers a major change in his life.In the empty spaces left behind, he and Dean gravitate toward each other.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 41
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

Dean stood beneath the wide, starry sky and felt his own insignificance.

He blew on his hands, curled into each other against the Montana cold.

There was something about the sky here that made him afraid.

He thought of Castiel's hand brushing his own, knuckle to back, an accidental graze that made him shudder with want and he'd eventually had to pull over with the need to jack off so he could relieve the pressure.

" _Augh, **fuck, Cas!** " he'd bitten out as he came all over his hand around ten minutes ago._

Dean shook his head at himself. _Over an accidental brush of hands. Really?_

He was not such a playboy now. Wide-eyed and stupid and hopeful when it came to Castiel.

His entire body gave a voluntary shiver of excitement and aftershock just from thinking back on it.

Dean breathed out, frustrated with himself and the situation, as a little puff of steam formed in the air.

He'd wanted to keep everything inside, just like he always did.

Castiel just made him crazy.

***

_God, everything about him is perfect._

Dean watched Castiel smite demons, work his blade, fight and move like water with it. He was the most calculated fighter Dean had ever witnessed.

Cas made him so fucking hard he couldn't stand it. He kept well away from him during the fight.

When it was over, just as he knew would happen, Castiel bore down on him like a tempest.

"Are you all right, Dean?" rumbled over him and Dean had to close his eyes so Cas couldn't see them rolling into the back of his head with his intense desire to give himself over, to surrender his body to Castiel.

"Fine. Yeah." Dean grit out.

When he opened his eyes again, Castiel had gotten closer, and those bright blues were boring into him.

Dean couldn't breathe and he had zero control over himself. His body lurched forward a little, almost of its own volition.

_Fuck. Calm the fuck down right now._

"Are you sure?" Cas asked, and reached out a hand.

_If he so much as fucking **touches** me right now I'm gonna go off like the Fourth of July._

Dean recoiled from Castiel's touch and backed away.

"I said I'm fine," he said, but it came out funny.

Castiel's face fell. The expression of hurt rejection there made Dean feel like an asshole.

"It's okay, Cas, you didn't do anything wrong," he reassured the angel. "Really. I'm just on edge, is all."

_Yeah, you know **exactly** what you're on the edge of, asshat._

"Okay," said Cas, looking relieved, and then passed by him to check on Sam.

That was when their hands had grazed each other, and Dean had been jittery the whole way back to the motel, where he brusquely informed them he wanted to go for a drive.

_Alone._

And led to Dean rubbing one out in the driver's seat of his beloved Impala because he was going fucking insane over Castiel barely touching him.

_You're a real prize, you know that, Winchester?_

"Believe me," said Dean aloud to himself. "I know."

***

_  
The ocean. A hurricane._

Strong, powerful, eternal and endless, placid and gentle and kind and roaring in fury.

Dean thought of that scene in _From Here to Eternity._

_Making love to the ocean._

He also vaguely remembered that the actors talked about how starkly un-romantic the whole thing really was, sand in all the wrong places.

And Dean had experienced enough sex on the beach to know that it sounds better in theory than in practice.

There are just some parts of your body you don't want sanded.

***

Dean sat in the motel lobby sucking down his milk with a straw.

"You can drink right out of the carton, you know," said Sam.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Wait, why aren't you drinking it out of the carton?"

"Don't like the way it feels," muttered Dean, instead of _because I'm trying to improve myself a little, okay? Like with manners and shit like that._

Dean looked at the people coming in for breakfast and willed Sam to leave it alone.

He knew that he wasn't good enough for Cas, would probably never be good enough for Cas, but it was a start.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas was talking, but Dean wasn't listening.

Not really.

Just watching, and staring at his hands.

It's something important - he's sure about that. But he hasn't been able to focus for days now.

_God, he's so fucking strong. He could just take me if he wanted to, fuck me against the nearest available surface. But he doesn't. Because he's good like that._

_Would I want him to do that to me?_

Dean's entire thought process came to a screeching halt at the very idea.

_If I'm gettin' this worked up over a few simple touches, if he tried somethin' like that I'd probably die on the spot._

"Dean?" that scorched-gravel voice finally broke through an incredibly elaborate fantasy involving Castiel and his hands absolutely _everywhere_ on Dean's skin. "Are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" blurted Dean, returning to reality, which was nowhere near as entertaining.

"This is important," said Cas in a huff. Sam gave Dean his patented _I can't believe you sometimes_ expression.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled, and tried to pay attention.

_I want to worship him with my mouth. Get down on my fucking knees for him and just -_

So sue him, Dean's no saint, and he'd just had a major fantasy derailed.

Castiel suddenly choked.

"Cas, are you okay?" Sam said, jumping to his feet, and then hovering uncertainly, because he clearly wasn't sure if thumping an angel on the back was a good idea or not.

"Yes, Sam, I'm fine," said Cas, but his voice was a little thin and wobbly. He coughed. "Apologies. Now, as I was saying - "

Dean settled back and finally listened to what the angel had to say.

***

As he was making his way back to his room later on, Dean was startled by the sudden appearance of Castiel.

"Dean," growled Cas, and pushed him up against the wall.

Dean's mouth dropped open and he stared down at Castiel's lips.

_holy fuck it's happening he's touching me he's **touching** me -_

"Do you think this is _funny_?" he demanded. "Broadcasting your absolutely _filthy_ thoughts just to get a rise out of me?"

The storm of anger in Castiel's dark blue eyes made Dean blink in confusion.

"I - what?" said Dean. "No, I - I would never -"

"I can see _everything_ in your mind if you direct it toward me!" Castiel said. "I expected better from you. Now, do you care about the case or not?"

"'Course I care about the case!" Dean snapped, his body in a confused tangle of horny fear.

"Indeed?" Castiel rumbled. "Then what is it?"

Dean stared.

"I, uh," he said.

"Keep your thoughts _to yourself,_ " Castiel said, and let go.

Dean missed him immediately.

Cas gave him one, last unreadable look -

and if Dean didn't know any better, he'd have said that Cas actually looked _hurt_ , or sad -

but then the angel vanished, so he had no further opportunity to study his expression.

***

Dean stood alone in the hallway, heart pounding in his ears, his dick hard enough to make a tent in his jeans.

"All that angelic perception and you couldn't perceive _this,_ asshole?" shouted Dean. "I ain't makin' _fun_ of you, damn."

_Not like Cas wants that anyway, so ... probably for the best he didn't notice._

He shook his head.

"Guess I better go ask Sam about this case," he muttered to himself.

Then he looked down.

"Maybe later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates, but I am furious about what has been happening in my country, as I assume many of you are as well.
> 
> For the record, once again: the people of the road are almost entirely hardcore anti-fascists, because of course we are - our lifestyles make that not only a necessary tenet of belief, but also: the kind of people who want to live this freely are not interested in authoritarianism or idolatry. The way these seditious traitors behaved infuriates us to no end. America belongs to everyone and you do not attack the place in which that faith is invested. America is an idea, and it is not invested in a single person - that was the reason for the Boston Tea Party, if you recall. 
> 
> Yes, the nation has its many problems, but there are things that are sacrosanct, and that is one of them. Shame on these people. It is my hope that all are arrested and brought to some kind of justice, and the 25th Amendment invoked. America is not their toy, and they will not win. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all are faring all right out there, and please know that the people working in the background are not on their side. You only have to listen to Woody Guthrie's work to know that this is the general position of the people of the road.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam, as it turned out, was not inclined to be helpful.

"Uh huh," said Sam, as Dean begged him to explain the case.

He kept turning pages - _whish. whish. whish -_

and staring down at the book which it was very obvious he wasn't reading, with the knuckles of his hand pressed into his forehead as he leaned his elbow on the table in the low light of the table lamp.

"Sam, c'mon," said Dean. "I'm sorry, okay? I was being a dick, and I get distracted."

"You'd think you'd be a little more concerned, given the subject matter," Sam muttered.

Now that was interesting.

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, suddenly aware that he might have made a major error.

"Cas can't get back into heaven."

"What, did they ban him or some shit? _Again_? Those corporate douchebags don't know what they've got in Cas."

"And apparently neither do you."

Dean shot a look at his little brother. There was a light strangeness to his tone that Dean wasn't sure he liked.

"Anyway," sighed Sam, "we don't know why, and were trying to discuss how to go about finding out, when Cas called on you like you were a kid misbehaving in class."

Dean's mind absolutely did not go anywhere that resembled Cas as a stern professor and Dean as a student in need of discipline.

Right. This was important, and Dean felt like a heel.

He also was starting to wonder if he was under some kind of lust spell, because this was getting completely out of hand.

Then again, he didn't get laid much anymore. Something about a wild-haired, blue-eyed angel in a rumpled trenchcoat, something something.

"Okay," said Dean. "I messed up big time."

"You sure did. This wasn't just some monster case, Dean, this was about Cas."

"Yeah, I'm gettin' that," Dean said. "Shit. Maybe I got cabin fever and need to get on the road again."

"Tough titty said the kitty when the milk went dry," Sam commented wryly, without looking up from the book.

Dean breathed a mock gasp of surprise.

"Samuel, I'm surprised at you!" he said in a fake concerned voice. "Where did you learn that kind of language?"

Sam snorted in spite of himself.

"Dean, there's nothing like a case anywhere around here, and it doesn't look likely that there will be one in the near future. So the only thing you've got on your agenda is apologizing to Cas."

Dean sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled, but it was a fair cop.

He hated that Sam was right all the time.

***

Dean found Cas going through his movie collection, which caused all kinds of Emotions to happen that Dean wasn't going to examine too closely.

He was holding one in his hand and staring at the title with exactly the amount of intensity he gave to considering things like world hunger or a particularly difficult chess move.

Dean was glad to see that the movie in question was _Die Hard._ So he got to keep his dignity, and whatever Cas had rifled through in his absence was none of his damn business.

"Cas -"

"I'm not speaking to you," said Cas, and made an infinitesimal turn to the left so that he wasn't facing Dean directly, but could still see him out of his peripherals.

"C'mon," said Dean, using the same winning tone that had gotten through to Sam.

Cas, apparently, was a harder nut to crack.

And yeah, Dean was going nowhere near the implications of that one.

"The title of this film is strange," said Cas. "One would think you'd rather avoid it."

"Hey, you're talking to me," Dean helpfully pointed out.

Cas scowled and turned slightly away from him again. Just a little further.

"Aw, c'mon, Cas, don't be like that," said Dean. "I came in here to apologize for being a dick. Sam gave me the lowdown and now I feel like a tool. So I wanted you to know that, and that I'm gonna help you however I can."

"Then stop playing practical jokes on me when I am dealing with a sensitive matter," said Castiel. "I appreciate that you wish to involve me in _the family_ but prank wars are best played with your brother. Although I wouldn't suggest you take the same tack with him."

Despite the stoicism of the delivery, Dean sensed that same _hurt/pain_ emotion he'd seen in Castiel's expression earlier.

But once again, it was gone before he could really get a bead on it.

"Sorry," said Dean roughly, instead of several other options he was too chickenshit to pursue, like _it wasn't a joke, I'm into you,_ or _sometimes I fantasize about having a normal life together with you and waking up in a bed we share together_ or _your hand barely touching mine makes me so fucking crazy for it that I have to excuse myself to jack off and relieve the fucking pressure of the sexual tension around here_.

But Dean just stuck with that single word, just like he often stuck with a single tear.

Not because he couldn't talk more -hell, he could talk nonstop for hours about anything under the sun as long as it didn't come close to real shit -

he could cry, for real, for hours too, as long as nobody living or dead could hear him.

But he saw something in Cas's shoulders relax, and the angel turned toward him again.

"Thank you, Dean," said Cas. "You are forgiven."

Dean couldn't help the light shiver that ran through his body at those words.

"Great," he said. "Now how can I help?"

Cas gave him a long, searching look.

"In the company of a human soul, I may be able to return to heaven and ascertain what has happened there," he said. "But it will be vastly uncomfortable."

"And it's gotta be me, not Sam?"

"Yes."

"Why? This some kinda Righteous Man thing?"

"No," said Cas.

"Then how come it's gotta be me?"

"Sam is not the one I wish feelings of discomfort upon at the moment."

***

In the end, of course Dean agreed, and it was probably for the best because every time he left Sam and Cas alone they ended up in some kind of Bad News Bears situation where they were lighting each other on fire or doing crazy shit like kids whose parents had gone away for the weekend and they were so drunk on their new freedom they made wapatuli in the bathtub and passed out on the stairs at four in the afternoon.

Not that Dean had any experiences like that before.

Cas had laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean thought very hard about math for a while.

Suddenly, they were standing on some busted-up concrete, surrounded by smoky ruins.

Dean craned his head to look up at the heights of the burned-out buildings. He whistled.

"Shit, what the hell happened here?" he asked. "This some kinda pit stop on the way, Cas?"

But Cas did not respond.

Dean turned to him to ask again, but Cas's face was stricken, his bright blue eyes looking up at the light of the sky, the clouds surrounding them, and reached out a hand toward the blackened, swooping designs of the grand gates in front of him.

The burnt-out husk of a podium stood near the gates, and a book that had been reduced to ash and cinder.

Dean knew, before Castiel said anything. He just hadn't recognized it at first, because how could he?

"It's heaven," said Castiel. "It's gone. Burned to ash."

Dean watched his friend. He didn't know what to do or say, to offer a hug, or cry, or laugh.

"All those angels, all those people," Castiel breathed. "Gone."

Dean found himself timid in the face of Castiel's shocked, all-consuming grief.

If an angel could fight, if an angel could have loyalty the way Cas did, how much more could he grieve?

"Forever?" Dean asked, tentative.

Slowly, Castiel nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wapatuli is very stupid. Do not.


	4. Chapter 4

After heaven burned down, Cas was on the road with Dean.

Secretly, Dean was thrilled, although he knew just how damn selfish that was, and how much Cas had lost.

Sam preferred to stay in the bunker these days, so they took cases together instead with Sam functioning much as Bobby once did, as an expert contact and resource.

Although Dean teased him about getting soft, the heart-in-his-throat feeling he got when it was just him and Cas together meant that Dean was okay with events as they stood.

They'd talked for such a long time about doing their own thing, becoming their own men, untwisting that bond of terrible codependency.

But now, late at night, when Dean was staring at the outline of Castiel's back in the darkness, he wondered if this really was the life he wanted, motels and diners with an angel not so much fallen as having no perch toward which to ascend.

Homeless, for want of a better word.

He still retained his wings and grace, although they didn't really understand why. 

Even so, he couldn't fly anymore.

Cas had been mostly quiet since it had happened.

Nights like this, sometimes Dean woke to hear the soft hitches of sobs in the dark.

Dean had extensive experience in this area to know that these outpourings of grief were private, and best ignored. 

Cas would come to him when he was ready. 

He hoped.

But staring at Castiel's back, night after night, while they hunted ghosts and monsters all across the States, was getting harder and harder.

"Cas," Dean whispered, finally. "Buddy? You awake?"

"Yes, Dean."

For some reason Castiel's response startled him.

He rolled over to look at Dean in the dark.

For a while, they just lay there, breathing and looking at each other.

Dean finally listened to the desire hammering inside his ribcage, the need to make everything right, to take care of those he - 

but he still couldn't name it, or the fireworks that lit up at the slide of fingertips up his arm as he got out of his bed and slid into Castiel's, whispering -

"Just let me - just let me - Cas, please."

And Cas, whose eyes Dean could see in the dim light of the motel room, staring up at him like he was the whole world, like he was the one to be worshipped, nodded.

"Yes, Dean," he murmured.

Dean kissed him then, and groaned into it, instantly hard, out of his mind with it, teeth clashing as it went from an obsession with the merest touch to the crazed frenzy of a starving man who suddenly finds himself before a feast -

moaning and shoving his hips against Cas with stupid, animal need, making strange gutteral sounds in his throat and deep in his chest, devouring Castiel with everything he had, craven and greedy and insane -

until his hips stuttered and he made a sound like _uh-uh-uh_ and came hard against Cas with his fingers digging hard bruises into his hips and his brain screaming out _love you love you love you mine mine mine mine mine._

On a shaky breath, he pulled back to look at Cas, who was still hard but hadn't finished yet, and made no move to do so but clung with just as much strength to Dean, if not more.

"I, uh," Dean said, now that the haze was clearing from his mind. "Was that okay?"

He suddenly felt like shit.

_This guy just lost everything he has ever known and is adjusting to this non-life at the edges of the world with you for company and you just couldn't keep your shit together, could you?_

"Dean," rumbled Cas. "Dean, it's all right. I just - can we stay here, like this, for awhile?"

Dean's fight-or-flight was ready to run, deny, deny, deny, anything to get him out of this terrible chasm of what spending the entire night in Cas's arms might mean.

Sure, it was one thing to fuck somebody, and Dean guessed it probably meant more to an angel.

But if he did this he might have to come to terms with the fact that he didn't just want Castiel because he was a hot piece of ass.

"Sure, okay," Dean heard himself mumble, and Cas relaxed into his arms, never letting up on the death grip, holding him like he was the only anchor in the universe.

***

The thing they had, that started up after that, was a moody and strange creature.

Dean would roll out of bed and tell Cas not to expect anything.

Cas would nod and say he didn't, that this was more than he'd ever expected and he was content with it.

Sometimes Cas would mention that he wanted to be able to leave the way he once did, just vanishing without warning.

On these days, Dean would sulk in the bathroom for hours until they had to go out for the case.

Dean loved hard and jagged, cruel in some ways without meaning to be, dismissive and distant and wanting to be so, so close all at once. Infuriating, but apparently intoxicating to Cas, because he could not seem to stay away.

Cas, though Dean had expected him to be much the same, was like being loved by a thunderstorm. Both the rage and fury, the sound and light show, but also the soft calm of curling up under a blanket as it rained outside, staring out at the gray.

They loved each other, didn't talk about it, and resented it, awash together in the ache of things lost.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm sorry," Dean panted against Castiel's lips, as they found a dirty grind together. "I'm sorry."

He didn't know what he was apologizing for.

_Sorry it's me? Sorry for all the things I ever did to you?_

_Sorry I fell in love?_

_Sorry about what happened?_

"Dean," said Castiel softly, as if his name was another language that could be spoken only through inflection.

And then Castiel came on an even softer whine.

Dean watched Cas's cock kick with it, spurting out onto his skin.

"Man, you drive me so fuckin' crazy," muttered Dean, humping up against him and coming with a shout.

Their fingers were wound together tightly. Dean relaxed his death grip on Cas's hand.

They lay together, breathing, and didn't speak again.

***

It came to a head just outside Spokane, in a motel where they had been staying for a week during which the rain had not let up even once and Dean started to wonder if people in Washington were amphibious.

"Dean," said Castiel. "We need to talk."

Dean's stomach dropped.

_He's an angel, he doesn't know what that phrase means to people,_ Dean tried to reassure himself in a sickly thought of hope.

The door was open to the forest outside. Dripping, and everything looked so, so green.

Cas stood there, almost a shadow, a long line in the light of the doorway.

Dean sat, and he waited.

"I can't do this anymore," said Cas, and Dean's stomach reminded him that it had been right all along, but then again, his stomach as well as the rest of him had always been talented at predicting these kinds of things.

In fact, if Dean was being honest, he'd started to notice little things just beforehand that had set his teeth on edge.

Even if the guy couldn't fly anymore, Dean had already started getting the sense that he was preparing for takeoff.

"I think...I'd like to travel for a while," said Cas.

"Alone," he added, for clarification.

Dean just stared at Cas and didn't respond for a minute or so.

Mainly because the blood in his ears was pounding _he's leaving you he's leaving you he's leaving you -_

_everybody leaves you, Dean, you ever notice?_

_Mommy, Daddy._

_Even Sam._

Dean's hands tightened involuntarily against the thin bedspread.

_But not Cas. Cas isn't supposed to leave._

_Cas is mine._

_I belong to him and he belongs to me._

_We're..._

_He's my..._

"Okay," Dean finally bit out. "If that's what you gotta do."

Cas looked at him, and his eyes were still filled with that _hurt, pain_ expression, the one of longing that Dean had seen there before. For many years, now that he knew what to look for - and foolishly thought that it was _him_ Castiel had been longing for.

But they'd been sleeping together for at least a month and that expression had never gone away.

_Maybe it was longing for another life._

_The one he's leaving you for now._

"Goodbye, Dean," said Castiel.

And just like that, Dean was alone, staring out at the green-gray and watching the water dripping from the roof onto the wooden slats in front of the motel door.

Dean didn't go after him.

***

Drenched and just starting to dry off after his third shot of whisky at a little dive bar somewhere in the forest, Dean felt his phone buzz.

He fumbled it onto the floor in his hurry to get it out of his pocket.

When he picked it up, he felt the cold disappointment of seeing that it was Sam calling.

_Huh. That's new,_ thought Dean. He'd never felt disappointed that it was Sam before, unless they were having a fight.

He realized his disappointment wasn't that Sam was calling. Anyone but Cas calling at that time would have been disappointing, but Dean wasn't about to examine it.

"Yeah," said Dean to his brother.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked, and Dean closed his eyes in relief, hearing Sam's voice. No matter what they'd been through, Sam was his safe harbor.

"Nothin'," said Dean, because he knew that Sam knew something and didn't feel like elaborating.

"I just talked to Cas and he said he's on the road alone," said Sam. "Did you guys have a fight? Are you in a bar?"

"No and yes," said Dean, indicating that he wanted another glass of whisky to the bartender. "Cas just wanted to be alone."

"After everything?" prodded Sam. "Really? Aren't we better off looking into this together?"

"I think he got tired of me, Sammy," said Dean quietly.

"Well, you are hard to live with sometimes," said Sam.

Instead of the ribbing that Dean would normally launch into, he just rubbed his face.

"I mean," said Dean. "I think he - I think."

He looked down into his whisky glass as if he'd find the answer there.

He'd never found it there before, but he kept looking.

"We got together, kinda," said Dean, and it felt like he had to rip every word from deep inside him.

"What, like - together-together?" asked Sam slowly.

"Yeah," said Dean. "An' - he left me, Sam. He - guess I shoulda been, I don't know, better."

Dean could _hear_ the tears in his voice although he wasn't crying - yet. 

Damned whisky.

"I'm sorry, Dean," said Sam.

"What, no _didn't think you were into dudes_ or anything?" asked Dean.

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"It's Cas," Sam finally said.

Dean looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar.

He looked old. New crow's feet, and his green eyes were dull, with deep lines underneath them.

He sighed, and rubbed a palm flat against his jeans.

"It's Cas," he agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean had been driving aimlessly for days.

He didn't want to go back to the bunker and face Sam's sad _I'm here for you_ expression.

He didn't want to hunt, or look for cases.

So he just drove, and thought about how empty the world seemed without Castiel in it.

He'd started typing about a million texts, fake-calm, and deleted all of them.

His finger hovered over Cas's name in his contact list, but he didn't call.

***

Eventually, Sam called him while he was in a convenience store in Iowa.

"Dean," he said.

"Sam," said Dean.

There was silence.

"You callin' for somethin'?" asked Dean. "Cause I gotta tell ya, Sammy, this heavy breathin' thing over the phone ain't doin' it for me, just so you -"

"Dean," Sam interrupted again. "Where are you?"

"Uh, somewhere in bumfuck Iowa," he said, and then mouthed _sorry_ at the cashier.

The cashier shrugged, as if to say _don't I know it._

"Did you talk to Cas?" asked Sam.

"No, did you?"

"No, Dean, I mean," said Sam, with the tone Dean easily recognized as _how do you constantly test my eternal patience_ , "did you two _have a conversation_ about what was going on between you?"

"Hell no," said Dean, horrified at the very thought. "Who do you think I am?"

Sam sighed.

"That's exactly who I thought you were," he said. "Dean. You gotta find him. You gotta tell him."

Dean's other arm was filled with Twizzlers and Doritos. 

"Look, Sam, I gotta go," said Dean. "Maybe we can have this heart-to-heart later but I need my other hand for iced tea."

"Dean," said Sam in a warning tone. "Please. Will you think about it? I think it's important."

"Call me when you got a lead on the case," Dean replied gruffly. "Hell, call me when there's a case."

Sam sighed again.

"Will do," he said, and hung up.

Dean paid for his stuff and went out to the Impala, throwing the food into the passenger side.

He stared at the empty passenger seat for a little too long.

Then he got into the car and drove off, with no particular destination in mind.

***

It was no use. Dean couldn't stop thinking about it as he drove.

_I gotta tell him._

_Tell him what?_

_All that...fuckin'...pent-up desire wasn't just a sex thing, it was -_

Dean ground his teeth and turned up the music.

Somehow, the idea of just _telling Cas_ felt too much like surrender.

***

Dean dreamed of Castiel's touch.

Although the touches in his dream weren't sexual in the least, he woke up with a whine as he came all over his stomach.

Humiliated, even though there was no one around to see him, Dean cleaned himself off and took a shower. He was hard again, and took care of it thinking only of Castiel's light touch on his skin, painting the tiles with his come and a bitten-off shout.

Dean leaned his forehead against the wall.

Even now, after all the sex they'd had, it was dreaming of Castiel's hands that did him in.

Something had to give.

***

Dean called Cas.

He listened to the phone ring and suddenly had the terrifying thought that maybe Cas wouldn't answer, wouldn't want to answer, was done with Dean Winchester and all his issues -

"Hello, Dean."

Dean slumped over in relaxed relief, a study of sculpture in recline.

"Cas. Where you at, buddy?"

_Buddy?!_ his mind spat back at him. _Real smooth, Winchester._

"I'm in Wyoming," said Cas. "I stayed at the motel outside Casper in Hell's Half Acre. I just made it to Jackson Hole today."

"Hey, cowboy country!" said Dean warmly. 

"It does have a certain charm," Cas admitted.

"It reminds me of you," he added softly, as an afterthought.

_Aw. He thinks about me_ , thought Dean, grinning like an idiot.

Dean smiled into the phone before realizing that of course Cas couldn't see him.

"Listen, Cas, I want to talk to you about something, and I'd rather not do it over the phone if that's okay," said Dean.

"All right," said Cas, his tone immediately suspicious.

"Nothin' bad," Dean hastened to assure him. "Just - gimme a couple days, okay? Stay put. Or we can meet in the middle, or you can come to me, I'm in North Carolina."

"I'll stay put," said Cas. "I'm at the Old Ranch Motel in Jackson."

_Damn. Make me work for it._

"Okay," said Dean. "Be there in a few days."

***

Dean made good time.

He pulled into the motel motor court and saw Cas standing outside his room in the late afternoon sunlight.

It made his eyes shine blue in the way the ocean did, white sand beaches in the tropics with those azure seas that invited the weary traveler to let go, relax, and take it easy.

Castiel was gorgeous, and Dean could find peace in the seas of his eyes.

_Has he always been this handsome?_ thought Dean, as he got out of the car and hugged him tight.

"Hello, Dean," murmured Castiel into his shoulder, and all was right with the world.

***

Dean sat on the bed in Cas's motel room and rubbed his palms on the knees of his jeans.

_Come on, come on, come on,_ he chanted inside his head.

Cas was standing near the door, just as he had the day he'd left, arms folded, looking like he might want to keep his options open as far as running was concerned.

"Dean," he finally said. "I can't hear your prayers anymore."

Dean looked up, surprised.

Castiel's voice had the sense of mourning to it.

"Ever since I confronted you in the hallway," he admitted. "Before we knew heaven had burned down. So - if you have something you need to tell me, you're going to have to say it out loud, because I have no idea."

Dean stared at him.

So this meant -

the _entire time_ they'd been messing around, Cas had no idea of his intentions?

_Yeah, and why would his first assumption be **he's stupid in love with me?**_

_All you do is brag about your conquests and he wouldn't even be the first angel you bagged. Gender means nothing to him so he probably thought -_

"Did you think that you were just a notch on my bedpost?" Dean blurted in horror. "Is that why you left?"

Cas -

clearly hadn't expected this to come out of Dean's mouth, because he dropped his arms in shock.

"I - wasn't?" he said, slowly, as if not daring to hope.

"God, no, Cas," said Dean. "Ah, fuck. This is hard. I guess - I just thought you knew? You _must_ know, or else what's all the _I can sense longing, Dean_ all about?"

"I," Castiel swallowed. "I thought you were trying to get a rise out of me."

"No!" said Dean, and then reconsidered. "Well, yeah, maybe, but not like - _ugh._ Cas! You know, I'm bad at this, but that don't mean you gotta be too."

Dean geared up for it, the big reveal.

The white flag of surrender.

_Here goes nothin'._

"Castiel. I'm in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hell's Half Acre Motel and Restaurant have long since been torn down, but I included them here because that area is fascinating, if you want to take a look.


	7. Chapter 7

"I don't believe you."

Dean's jaw dropped.

"I - you," Dean started, then stopped. " _What?_ "

Castiel shrugged.

"I don't believe you," he repeated sadly. "Why now? I'm of no use to you, Dean, I have wings and grace but that's it! I can't help you and I certainly won't return just because you find it hard to live without an assist - which, may I reiterate - I can no longer provide."

"You think -" Dean stuttered. "You think - ?"

"That you need me, or you think you do," said Cas. "You've said as much. Maybe you want me, too. I don't know. But _love_?"

Cas laughed without humor.

"Like a brother, Cas," he quoted. "Well, I'm sorry, Dean, but I can't. I can't be whatever you want me to be in the moment, whatever makes you sleep better at night."

_You use people,_ Dean heard. _You sleep with anyone who'll have you and when you ran out you noticed that I was still hanging around._

"Why'd you do it?" Dean said abruptly. "Why'd you stay? If I'm so horrible."

Castiel exhaled. 

He looked hunted.

"Because," he said miserably. "Whether or not you do - I did. I do. I always will. Forever."

He stared at the ground and marinated in his confession, to the cold plywood walls of the motel room, to Dean, who now knew that Castiel believed he did not return the angel's affections in the slightest - who apparently thought Dean saw him as a tool, a crowbar, a gun to fire and otherwise useless.

"God, how sad," Dean said aloud.

Castiel's head snapped up and those blue eyes bore into him with a gimlet gaze.

"I beg your pardon?" he demanded.

Dean stood up and walked toward him.

"It's so fuckin' sad that we've been dancin' around this for years," said Dean, as he took a step closer to Cas. "Each of us believin' the other guy don't feel the same. Each of us stewin' in our crap, self-hating martyring idiots."

Dean was close to him again, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss. His heart was hammering rapidly.

Cas still wouldn't look at him.

"Don't," he said on a soft, desperate whisper.

"Don't what?" asked Dean, still not touching him. "Don't kiss you? Don't touch you, like I've been dreamin' of for years?"

Dean breathed, almost against Castiel's lips, but the angel wouldn't look at him.

"You're the love of my life, Castiel," said Dean. "And if you really don't want any of this, I will walk out that door right now."

Dean stepped back from him respectfully.

"But I think we spent enough time playin' around an' pretending. Cards on the table, Cas, scout's honor. It's the damned honest truth. I can't get enough of you, I never will. You make me _crazy_ , man, I was lit up like a Roman candle every damn time that trenchcoat brushed past me or you got all close and personal with the laying on of hands."

Then he smiled, a crooked grin he could feel.

"You're _it_ for me, Cas," said Dean. "I mean it."

Cas looked up at Dean then, and Dean kept the smile plastered in place despite his body shouting desperately _run hide avoid deflect_ out of terror, fear of rejection, and the certain knowledge that he was going to be absolutely devastated and left shattered on the floor if Cas turned him down now.

But he was willing to endure it, because it was Cas.

Castiel approached him, and dragged his fingertips lightly down his arm.

Dean gave him a surprised look.

Then, tentative, quiet:

"You're _it_ for me, too, Dean. I love you."

A soft press of lips that Dean breathed relief into, and a gentle caress.

"We're going to have to talk to each other now," said Cas. "Let's go forward slow, together. What do you think?"

"Yeah," Dean said softly, more starry-eyed from these kisses than the hurried, frantic sex they'd had before, feeling almost drunk with it. "Together."


	8. Chapter 8

And it stayed that way, much to Dean's surprise. 

Every light touch from Castiel had him hard and aching within seconds, shuddering with want.

He'd assumed that it would fade, just like every honeymoon period fades in every relationship, but -

maybe it was because Cas was an angel, or maybe just because it was _Cas._

***

Somewhere a few days down the line, Dean wasn't really sure which one because they'd booked the motel room out for a month and had been using their time there wisely, Sam phoned up with news.

"So get this," said Sam. "It's all gone."

"What?" asked Dean, sitting up in the bed as Castiel curled around him, laying half-asleep on the bed, and nuzzled into him.

"Heaven, hell, purgatory, whatever," said Sam. "It's just this. It's just...us."

Dean stared down at Cas.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

"Uh, apparently the angels burned it down themselves," said Sam. "None of the places were fit for purpose anymore, so...that's that."

"Huh," said Dean, wondering how he felt about that, and what Cas was going to think. "What do you know."

"Yeah," said Sam, and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Got any, uh, feelings, about that?" asked Dean.

Sam sighed.

"You know," he said, "I didn't really know how to feel about it. Maybe it's for the best? Nobody fighting anymore, just you, me, Cas, and the monsters. The rest of the human race, the world, whatever. It's just, big news, I guess."

"Yeah," said Dean faintly. "Me an' Cas got together again, Sammy."

"Aw," said Sam, and Dean could hear his smile through the phone. "Well, _that's_ big news. Are you going to tell him?"

"'Course I'm gonna tell him, Sam," said Dean. "Just - gonna let him sleep for a little while first."

***

Cas, much to Dean's surprise, didn't mind it all that much.

"It's the first time in my entire existence that I'm free," he said. "Free to do whatever I want, to...become whoever I will become."

He reached across the Impala's front benchseat and lifted Dean's hand, planting a kiss there.

"To love you."

Dean could feel the blush starting in his cheeks but kept his eye on the road for once in his life.

"You know, maybe you're right," said Dean. "I wasn't sure if I liked the idea of just...ending. Kinda scares the crap outta me sometimes, y'know?"

He stared down the highway as the car ate up the miles.

"But," he said, "thing is - the way things were, I'm not sure if that's better. Maybe we'll be better to each other, people will be better to each other, if this is our one chance, y'know? Gotta make it count."

"Yes," agreed Castiel. "Perhaps you're right. No wars for heaven or hell, no purgatory for all monsters - even the good ones, like Garth. A blank slate."

"Writing our own story," said Dean. "Is this what free will looks like?"

"I imagine it is," said Castiel, on a soft smile. "And I would know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story title taken from Leonard Cohen's _Suzanne_. 
> 
> "And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind, and you think maybe you'll trust him, for he's touched your perfect body with his mind."


	9. Author's Note

Apologies to everyone for the wait. I am heartbroken for my country and writing about the vintage Americana of which I form a part is difficult, to say the least. I am fiercely patriotic in a far more old-fashioned way and seeing these people twist that definition beyond its intended meaning is disturbing to say the least. I can only hope that this has been eye-opening for some of my fellow Americans and they will realize they've been had by one of the worst grifters and conmen I've ever had the displeasure of seeing in the government. And I experienced the presidencies of both Bushes, the second of whom I'm sure is thrilled that someone else has taken the title of 'worst President'. 

Never, ever believe _it can't happen here_. That goes for all nations, the US, the UK, wherever. Anything can happen anywhere. Remember that.

I hope you're all doing well.


End file.
